


The Most Unlucky Denizen Of Hell

by antrazi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hell, POV Outsider, Post Season 3, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antrazi/pseuds/antrazi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always wondered about the soul Dean had been torturing when Castiel got to him. This little story is from this soul's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Unlucky Denizen Of Hell

It may sound strange but I consider myself to be the most unlucky denizen of hell.

How I came to that conclusion? -Good question.

I admit, I wasn't the best person during my lifetime. I whored around, neglected my wife and children, didn't go to church and so on.

Non of that was relevant, the thing that directed my soul to hell after my death was an episode in my youth.

I drove with my high school girlfriend home after a date, not completely sober. We crashed into a tree. I got out without a scratch, she was heavily injured.

Instead of going for help I shifted her to the drivers side, it was her car anyway, and made my way from the site.

She was found a few hours later and apparently died a very slow death.

So, OK, not the best person but for hell's standard I was an insignificant little thing.

A normal day as a soul in hell is being on your rack, being tortured.

The first time I came to His rack I was relieved.

A fellow soul.

Not a demon on the other side, just a soul. I thought I was getting a reprieve.

Boy, was I wrong.

He didn't taunt or cajole like the other torturers. Just measured me up, clinicly and detached like a perhaps a scientist with some lab rat and decided on his tools.

Somewhere in the back and to the side was a demon I didn't know. He was watching every move like a proud father, visible anticipation when he saw the chosen weapon, as if he expected great entertainment.

Later I learned that the demon had been hell's chief torturer and the soul his star pupil, some VIP whose stay in hell had been anticipated.

I don't know what you have to do to get VIP status in hell but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know.

I was just there for one session but it was more than enough.

The second I came before him was a few years later.

I both was grateful and devastated that day.

He had decided on another form of torture today, carefully dissecting a leg layer after layer like some strange anatomical project.

We heard noise around our little corner of hell bur both of us were to invested in what we were doing to react to any outside influence: he in his work, I in my continued screaming.

Suddenly there was this... being... with us, neither a soul nor a demon.

It grabbed my torturer by the shoulder and lifted the soul up, the scalpel clattered down beside me uselessly.

The being cradled the soul carefully against itself and just vanished.

When they realized my sharp instruments loving friend wasn't where he should be there was a flurry of activity.

Apparently that he hadn't been on a rack didn't change that he shouldn't have been able to disappear.

Since they were pretty busy they forgot unimportant little me for a while, thank god. Of course I encouraged that by being totally silent and looking considerably cowed and broken, it wasnft really a stretch.

Later I heard through scuttle-bud that the guy had been resurrected, back on earth and living.

Out of hell permanently, and from what was said they didn't expect him to come after dieing.

So yeah, I'm the one that saw freedom from eternal hell just 3 steps away but it was my torturer that got yanked out and offered a second chance.

Damn.

Why him

  



End file.
